#And if you are as white and straight passing and cis passing as I can be

[dayvan]

re: my last reblogs and tags

remember that study trying to prove trans men experience male privilege with a sample size of 10 whole stealth trans guys from socal with tech and office jobs. lmao.

[kamorth]

Just as an intro, yes this post reads VERY white. Unfortunately a lot of recent history is only accessible through white lenses and as I myself am about as white as it is possible to be, I don't have another viewpoint that I can write from with any kind of authority. My lack of experience does not negate anyone else's experiences or views.

In the 80s, being punk was how you showed disdain for conformity. NO, I DON'T Want to be Like You THE WOLRD IS SHITTY AND I AM ANGRY. They were the trash that you warned your kids to stay away from because they were dangerous and violent.

Grunge quickly followed suit with Yeah the world is shitty why do what the boring conformist bougies tell you when you can just do your own thing over here instead. They were the trash you hoped your kids got sick of but the worst parents ever suspected of them was maybe a bit of weed and some clumsy make outs, not that big a deal.

In the late 90s (my teens) it was goths. We are so sick of you and your church and shoving it down my throat with pushing for prayer in schools and Christian Pop Rock all over the billboard top 40. That kid is a witch now and You JUST Don't Get It. Depression is my baseline and the idea of being like you is the cause. We were the trash that were just indulging in a phase and would grow out of it, so we could be humored but mostly ignored (unless your parents were hard core Bible bashers, in which case you would get sent to something akin to conversion therapy - since you were also probably Queer it often was just outright conversion therapy).

Then the emos showed up and people started getting annoyed, partly because suddenly there were goths that you COULDN'T ignore for two reasons, they were LOUD about being sad and THERE WERE SO MANY OF THEM. Since they couldn't be ignored out of existence, the Western world decided to collectively bully them instead. They were the trash that was Just So Damn Cringe!

And now poverty is skyrocketing. Homelessness is a plague that has struck so many people who have committed no crime outside of bad luck. Actual fascists are in positions of power. Planned obsolescence and decades of lobbying by the oil industry in favour of petrol and plastics is destroying everything beautiful about this planet.

And Punk is back. Be ANGRY at your politicians who don't listen. Let your anger be heard so that they know you will not accept these ideas. Grunge is back. It doesn't have to be new, it just has to be functional. Work together to make a community you WANT to live in. Goth is back. Mourn for the world we were promised but never saw. Learn about belief systems that are different to the one you were raised in, ESPECIALLY if doing so pisses off your parents. Emo is back. Fuck haters. Cringe is dead. Being comfortable in your own skin means being allowed to do what YOU want, not having to exist for the benefit of someone else.

Before us it was hippies and beatniks and flappers and dadaists and before them there were the coffee shop philosophers and the point is there have ALWAYS been people who want the world to see its own flaws and fix them. I know other cultures had the same sorts of groups, like the Japanese Subekan gangs (who created the original lolita fashion trend as a way to take femininity back from being sexualized) and Islamic Sufism (an Islamic sect who practice things forbidden by stricter groups, such as singing and dancing) but I'm an armchair scholar, not an expert.

When society is broken, our numbers surge.

We are surging.

Society needs us.

[inkskinned]

there's a video on instagram of a man kicking his partner's door in. the top comment is (with over 4 thousand likes): "how about you tell us what you did to make him that angry?"

barring emergency, nobody should be kicking anybody's door in. many of us lived in houses where it was always, somehow, an emergency. there is a strange, almost hysterical calm that comes over you in that moment - everything feels muted, and you almost feel, however incongruently, like you should be laughing. you are living inside of "the emergency." oh my god, you think. i am now a fucking statistic.

there is another comment with 2.8 thousand likes: "if this was a woman doing it to a man, nobody would give a shit."

do people give a shit now, though?

barring emergency, the door should remain standing. the emergency should be panicked, desperate - "i'm coming in there to protect you." many of us know what it feels like when the emergency is instead "i'm coming in there to get you."

1.5k likes: "and yet you post this for notes. glad to see being the victim has become your whole personality."

hysteria is a word connected to womb, from greek. what you're experiencing is so senseless and inhumane that you (a rational creature) try to find any ground within what is irrational and cannot be explained. one of the most frustrating things about staying in bad situations is that we also lie to ourselves. we also ask ourselves - wow. what did i do?

women can be, and often are, also abusers. abuse is not gendered. abuse is not just a "straight person" problem. abuse does not have a face or figure or sexuality. you cannot pick an abuser out of a crowd. an abuser could be actually anybody.

and then so many people rally behind the man kicking the door in. here is something nobody should be doing, right? you want to ask every person that liked that first comment: do you ask this because you side with him? do you ask this because it helps you feel safe from this ever happening?

in some ways, you're weirdly sympathetic to the top comment, because it is the same logic you see frequently. the idea is that the average, normal, sane person doesn't just break down a door. doesn't just shoot up a school. doesn't stalk and kill women. doesn't threaten sexual assault. doesn't run over protesters. doesn't shoot an unarmed black person. doesn't scream at underpaid walmart employees. doesn't just "lose it". something had to have happened, right? because the default (white. straight. cis.) - that is someone who is always, you know. "sane."

(right?)

on a podcast, you hear a sane, normal, rational person. "if you piss me off, i'm going to need to hit something. sorry but i'm not apologizing. that's just who i am that's how it is." his voice almost sounds like he's laughing.

you think of the door, and how you were almost laughing behind it, too. ironically, every real emergency in your life has almost felt peaceful in comparison. fire, car accident, flash flooding - these felt quiet, covenant to you. you'd stood in all of them, feeling them pass over and up to your chin, never actually overwhelming.

but when the door was coming down, you had felt - is there a word for that? there has to be, a word, right.

surely one of us has figured out the word for that, i mean. it's such a large fucking statistic.

[decolonize-the-everything]

I've noticed a rise in radfems/TERFs in feminism tags and more specifically trying to rebrand as The Real Feminism or True Feminism since it's "for the girlies" or whatever.

I am begging you all to help me bury them.

Because as a teen who grew up during the peak of exclusionary "bi/pan/aces aren't vaild" and "kill all men" era where the concept of misandry THRIVED I'm telling you this feels extremely similar.

And radfem/terf ideology got mainstream from those sentiments being so popular and so easy to tap into. It was framed as being righteous since men were oppressors.

"Women are good and men are just mean oppressors! Look at everything they've done!" is such a common sentiment in those circles.

It also completely lacks critical feminist thought.

And we're STILL dealing with the affects of it over a decade later.

.....So let's talk about JKR since she's currently the Figurehead and favorite of the movement that's trying to rewrite feminist history.

It's 2023. It's a year before a US election where Project 2025 and Trump would happily create a road for trans and queer folks to be imprisoned if not worse.

Which is I'm sure why JKR has been photographed and interacting with multiple members from The Heritage Foundation, people whove spoken for them, and people who attended theyre meetings. She even enjoyed watching Magdalen, who who she credits for becoming a TERF.

But do you know who Magdalen is? Or what else she was saying? What about any of the other people in the photo? Do you know the scope of what JKR was internalizing and how bad it was? Do you know she has ties to conservative anti-abortion groups?

Do you know what The Heritage Foundation? Probably not and they're the worst so let me tell you why it's such a huge red flag for her and other so-called TERFs and radfems to be associated with them.

Because I can tell you right now she heard a lot of things from those people and there is no fucking way in hell that it was just about queer people or just some sex-specific concerns. And it wasn't just passive bigotry.

Anyone who doesn't conform to the idea of a white, straight nuclear family (re: single mothers, leftists, immigrants, gay couples, etc) is made out to be an enemy of the state.

Anyone they can justify as a "national threat." Yes, they call us all a national threat on their site, their book, and the pamphlets they pass out to politicians. The details are listed on their website including the Mandate For Leadership which is their instruction guide for the next president.

I'm not exaggerating when I say it calls for genocide, prison camps, and eugenic cleansing.

Several people in that photo don't even support abortion, a basic women's rights that JKR claims to care about deeply.

JKR was consuming white supremacist dogma under the guise of feminism.

And she's not willing to admit or correct it which is where the problem lies. She won't even admit to herself that she was fooled or that it's bad or hypocritical.

My concern is that she is not the only person who's fallen for it and there are more everyday.

So it's very important to me y'all learn how to filter out what Actual Feminism is in this age where literal fascism is attempting to take its place.

Firstly,

Real, actual feminism will be welcoming to EVERYONE

Because the patriarchy doesn't only affect women or cis people or white women and it's an insult to every previous feminist icon to say otherwise.

Feminists have been fighting for decades to unite people under the concept that Patriarchy is a system that will be brought down with allyship and solidarity.

They've been fighting so hard and so long to prove that everyone deserves the same rights as men.

That women are just as capable as men and shouldn't be stopped from entering fields of study and sports dominated by men. They've been fighting to prove that women are just as capable and smart as any man is, that men would benefit from it dismantling patriarchy too.

Women fought side by side with the queer community to get Roe v Wade passed in 1973. You know why? Because despite what radfems and TERFs will tell you trans women benefit from protecting and standing up for bodily autonomy.

Do not let bigots tear drive a wedge between two groups that experience gender based oppression and would benefit from the same exact rights.

We have changed history together and they're terrified we'll do it again.

A screenshot from the largest feminist organization active right now, The National Organization of Women.

Notice how the T is included. They even posted this video two years ago when LGBT and specifically trans rights started really coming under attack in 2022.

Trans women are women.

Trans men are men.

ALL women deserve rights.

Every gender deserves equality and fairness.

And feminism is for all of us or it is for none of us.

Because nobody deserves to be treated the way patriarchy treats us.

[genderkoolaid]

idk how to explain to you that "trans feminism" that focuses exclusively on trans women is not transfeminism. the idea that you can divide trans people along cis binary lines for liberation is so harmful and just straight up ridiculous. this is not a Terminally Online Take or whatever literally the woman who wrote the Transfeminist Manifesto later put in an addition talking about (amongst other things) how she regretted focusing on trans women to the exclusion of trans men and genderqueer people except when it was useful and pointed out how these groups are vital to trans liberation and have unique issues which need to be addressed by transfeminism as well.

THIS is why cis feminism is so infuriating to me. y'all will leave trans men and genderqueers out in the cold to die rather than consider that maybe just saying "trans women are women!" doesn't actually do all that much to challenge cissexism. when I see people talking about how feminism needs to be trans-inclusive but only talking about including trans women THAT IS CISSEXISM!! that's the idea that oppression is about men vs women with no other nuance and therefore trans men are oppressors and nonbinary gender doesnt exist in any meaningful way!!!! if your "trans feminism" isn't devoted to all trans people it's just the same cis feminism framework but for passing white trans girls!!!!!!!!!!!

you need to actually rethink everything about how you conceive gender and create an understanding of transness not as Oppression Flavoring but as a vital gender class group on it's own. & that's why transunity is vital. transphobia will never be dismantled with cissexist tools. we have to center transness.

[ihopesocomic]

Okay I wasn't going to reply to this because the topic is old and the sentiment confounded me. (for those who don't know, the initial conversation was about people who are sexist are usually not far away from also being racist/transphobic/etc) But I think because of that I'm going to say something anyway. If they're a straight woman or a gay man, they can absolutely be sexist towards women. Thinking otherwise is ridiculous.

That's like arguing that it's not weird to only have cis white gay characters and literally no one else -- no trans men and/or bisexual men etc -- but they want asspats for being "inclusive". V*vziepoop has a ton of cis gay men in her trashy shows while the women and/or trans characters "exist" at best, and any attempt to flesh those characters out is forced. And you don't find that suspicious? Lol ok I can't help you.

And this isn't just about cis women, or even about the cis gay men who have a visceral hatred and entitlement towards women, because what I'm saying is expansive. A person's "disinterest" in women justifies why they only include cis gay men and literally no one else. And everyone's just. Fine with that apparently. I remember a time when people would crucify me and RJ because we have a female-focused cast, and they would simultaneously ignore the existence of our male characters that we give time to, and that people love and talk about. As a lesbian I am not the least bit interested in men, but I still somehow manage to include them in my lion comic of all fuckin things. What's everyone else's excuse?

So "I never find those people suspicious" Is that logic applicable to all the cis women who do the same thing, or is it just cis gay men?

Does everyone give the diversity quota a pass because if it has cis gay men in it its "good enough"? Do they think that just because they don't say verbatim that they're racist/sexist/transphobic, that they can't possibly be any of those things?

My original statement stands. Maybe be skeptical of media you consume if there's only one type of person being presented. - Cat

[drdemonprince]

I read your newsletter about "transmisandry" today. I'm a trans man and I generally agree with what you said. However, I was wondering how you would classify a particular experience of mine and other trans men I know irl or have seen online.

In short, I find that in some queer spaces, masculine and/or "binary" (meaning, not non-binary) trans men are treated as outsiders and enemies. I imagine some straight-passing queer cis men experience similar.

This prejudice against masculinity has nothing to do with us being trans, and is in no way oppressive, but it seems to me that some people have a hatred/disgust/discomfort/etc. with masculine men, especially if we are proud of our manhood. I sometimes feel excluded in queer or progressive spaces, and like I have to change myself to fit into others' idea of "acceptable" manhood.

I think this tends to emotionally affect trans men in particular because being a man is generally hard-won and joyful for us. Have you experienced prejudice in queer spaces, especially trans spaces, for being transmasculine? And while I don't believe there exists systemic misandry, is this not a form of misandry, just interpersonal?

Thanks, I really appreciate your work.

Hi there, thank you for great question. What you are describing is certainly a very real and troubling dynamic within both queer and feminist spaces, and it's put me off for a very long time. I have sometimes referred to this as "playful 'misandry' feminism", always with "misandry" in quotes because, as we've already established, it's not a real locus of systemic oppression. I have also sometimes in the past likened it to "Men's Tears Coffee Mug" feminism in its performative, self-congratulatory, typically white feminist stance.*

*in the Koa Beck sense of the term. Someone who is not white can be a white feminist.

I was always put off by performative man-hating jokes and the exclusion of men within feminist spaces because, well, I was one, and because it nearly always played out in transmisogynistic ways that were transparent to me, and because I was a major ride-or-die for men who were victims of sexual violence yet were frequently excluded from survivors' spaces (again, because I was one, even before I realized that I was).

There are a lot of troubling effects that happen when feminist women make a big performance out of finding all men to be disgusting and evil and frequently express disinterest in men's feelings or suffering (which used to be way more common in my estimation, around the early 2010's or so it seemed to peak). I was driven away from feminist spaces as a young closeted trans man because I could see such spaces were not for me or for any of the other men that I cared about and needed support. On the inverse side of things, I have spoken to many trans men who said that "playful "misandry"" feminism actively made it harder for them to realize that they were guys. Men were seen as the enemy and inherently evil and destructive and so they felt absolutely disgusting about the possibility of being a man, or feared transitioning would get them seen as a betrayer of the feminist movement.

As you rightly note, it is not just trans guys who get excluded by such dynamics. Cis men who are genuinely avowed feminists can be driven away by such forces, which is especially upsetting in the case of sexual assault survivors and queer men. Trans women and TMA enbies are excluded from feminist and women's spaces because they supposedly "look like" men to these types, and their own feelings of superficial safety rank above the actual data on who is the most at risk structurally (which is trans women). Butches are regarded in some spaces as too aggressive or unacceptably masculine because of it. And people's analysis of gender oppression just overall sucks when they buy into "playful misandry" style feminism because they go around saying shit like "femme people are oppressed by masc folks." what the hell does that mean. Does a cis, gender conforming feminine woman have less structural power than a butch lesbian? I don't think so.

It seems to me that the big problem here is that "playful misandry" feminism is rooted in a deep deep misunderstanding of the structural nature of oppression. Sexism isn't caused by patriarchy and capitalism, it's caused by "men" and so hating men and excluding them is what will fix things. Men as individuals are responsible for sexism and so women should be as detached from them and unsupportive of them as possible. This logic leads to a TERFy place really quickly, and yes, it also really really damages trans men.

My opinion is that it's best to critique this problem as the political failure that it is: a misunderstanding of sexism as individualistic rather than systemic. That's the core issue from which all the problems flow -- from rampant transmisogyny to the exclusion of cis male sexual assault survivors to the feelings of alienation of trans men. Yes sometimes naming the performative nature of "man hating" jokes and the like is helpful because people recognize instantly what that dynamic is when they hear it. But the "misandry" itself is not the core problem -- it's the shitty gender politics and white feminism.

Does that make sense? To be clear, I think it's something trans men get to talk about. I talk about it from my positionality quite a lot really. I don't think "misandry" is ultimately the helpful or clarifying way to name it, but I will sometimes throw around that term with a TON of qualifiers if I'm discussing the specific interpersonal dynamic of women saying that men are evil rapists innately or whatever. But really discussing the broader gender politics failure that leads to those little shitty comments and looks is almost always more helpful. If trans guys and cis guys are feeling excluded from a space due to these dynamics it's almost always the case that trans women, TMA enbies, butch women, and lots of women of color are too.

[masculinerose]

Regardless of your opinion on whether trans men can identify as butches, the truth of the matter is that so many trans men experience being a butch in public (pre-transition AND post-trans) even if they don't identify as one.

Something I think skinny people tend to forget is that fat transmascs exist, and do you know where a lot of the fat can go? In the chest. Even when I'm binding, at best I look like a cis man with gynecomastia or abnormally humongous pecs, and most people are automatically going to assume boobs = female.

And yeah, sure, testosterone deepens your voice. But it doesn't make your speaking mannerisms masculine, and some trans people on T still need voice training to vocally pass as men. For me personally, that isn't really possible right now, due to chronic fatigue.

Combine those both together with my refusal to conform to cismasculine fashion standards (aka daring to wear any color other than white, black, grey, brown, and blue when wearing ties and button downs) and I am viewed by the public as a very sexually androgynous (gay man sounding voice, and a mustache) butch.

Even when I try my best to pass (deepen my voice so much it hurts, bind, wear boring colors, don't mask so people can see my mustache thus GREATLY RISKING MY PHYSICAL HEALTH as I am immuno-compromised) I STILL look like a butch to everyone.

While experiencing being perceived as a butch never makes someone a butch inherently, you're seriously going to tell me with a straight face that I have no right to identify as something I actively experience being every fucking time I go into public? Give me a break.

[tehnakki]

Had to have another frustrating convo with a white guy who started his introduction at a sex party I was hosting with "i'm lonely/recently divorced/widowed and haven't had sex in a couple years" and then afterwards reached out to me that he had a good time but couldn't figure out how to initiate anything more than surface level conversations with people.

This is like a regular trope of straight white dudes in a bunch of the sex communities I'm in and I just want to take them all and shake the fuck out of them and scream in their faces "YOU GET BACK THE ENERGY YOU BRING TO AN INTERACTION"

You come in with your mopey ass vibes and then wonder why no one thinks your sexy???? You started the interaction off with "hi, i'm pathetic and sad". Of course that is a vibe killer for almost everyone! Also, you didn't ask for sex! You said that you haven't had sex in a while, which implies that you either don't want to have sex or you don't know how to ask for what you want, both boner-killers.

We give explicit instructions during opening circle to ask for one specific thing you want and these dummies never do. They just say what they don't have and then are surprised that it hasn't changed by the end of the night. And I always model it by going first.

(read more for those who don't want to know what gets me off lol)

"Hey, I'm Nakki, they/them pronouns. I'm a pain slut and always open for pain play with new people. Tonight I would like to be fisted." And guess what, I got fisted by 3 different people, and caned/whipped by 4 others. Super fucking easy.

Thankful one of my cohost is a older cis white man and he has infinite patience for talking these dudes through how to behave like a normal human being at a sex party. So if they reach out to me I give them a quick read of their intro and why it didn't encourage me to ask them to play, and then pass them over to my cohost to have the manly heart to heart about actually listening to what people are saying and asking for what you want.

And over time some of them do get better at interacting and participating. I had one older divorcee guy who was beyond awkward at 4 or 5 parties last year and then showed up a couple weeks ago at one and just said his name and pronouns at opening circle (which impressed me, because normal he mentions he was divorced, and had misgendered me a couple times before) and came up to me immediately afterwards and said, "I've been learning electroplay because you mentioned it last year. I've been practicing it on myself and others and I'm really good at it now. Can I hurt you sometime tonight?" Apparently I got so wet so fast that my top (who had her hand between my legs) started cackling uncontrollably.

Anyways, that guy now has my full consent to choke me on his cock while he electrocutes the shit out of me whenever he wants. And he also has a bunch of regular play partners out of the group because people saw me losing my mind and wanted to take him for a spin as well.

Bring your sexy vibes and you will get sexy back. Bring your sad vibes and you will get sad vibes back. It is so easy. Stop making sex awkward.

[tdicksupreme]

i'm v happy to discuss my partial & conditional male privilege as a trans guy. my frustration is that people are never asking this question in good faith.

by good faith i mean genuine curiosity and expansion of our shared understandings as people: these discussions never seem to be about how my experience can help illuminate the oppression of being a woman or what that consists of, where the line is, what our lived experiences are like. i have never seen people ask/assert "trans men have male privilege" in ways that weren't v obviously trying to give people permission to not think about us. trans men have male privilege i'd argue can be partially true, depending on contexts, but it should be pretty blatantly bad-faith that such a complex topic is treated as a settled issue.

we have male privilege, it's settled, that's it, and you never have to think about effeminate trans men, flamboyant gay trans men, the complexities of how we move through the world, what it means (in my case, for example) to be a guy who's generally seen as a guy, but has not had top or bottom surgery, has long hair, & what that means for how i get treated in different contexts.

what are we talking about? the privilege to not be seen/treated as a woman on sight? reproductive freedoms? respect in the workplace? economic security? etc.?- so many trans guys, even guys who have passed for quite some time, never experience so many of these things, and instead of having genuine curiosity about our unique experiences you want to slot us all categorically into the cis-het-white-man box so you don't need to think of us as people who can ever have power leveraged against us

people seem to have two settings, either "trans men are women and don't know what it's like to be a guy" or "trans men are cis men and never experience their own unique challenges," even though i think it's pretty obvious that we have a mixed/complicated gender experience simply by virtue of being trans

and every tguy i've ever seen say "i have male privilege all of the time" never brings up all the things he had to do to get & retain patriarchal power. having- idk, been a guy, it's so fucking disingenous to pretend like being a man doesn't involve a performance of ten thousand different choices & behaviors to make sure other guys continue seeing you as a dude. it's not just "having facial hair" or w/e, and if that's what you think then you are literally by definition a transmisogynist lmao. it's the high-and-tight haircut, the gym shirt, the workouts you did to build those arms, the ways you learned to socialize with straight-acting men so they feel comfortable, the things you don't express & feminine mannerisms you stopped using because it would get you clocked. IMO, participating in sexism is a system men participate in so they don't become targets of it.

like, insisting trans guys universally attain male privilege isn't an innocent statement, it's one that in my experience gives dudes a skewed idea of their own safety. what do you think happens when i have a scruff, deep voice, and people realize my boobs are not cis guy moobs? why do so many people think that i'm seen unilaterally as a cis straight man, rather than a mostly-man sort-of-woman you're allowed to condescend to & also physically fight?

[slicznymartwy]

saccharine pt ii (you're billy's favorite)

cis fem reader

warning: billy's being fucking weird again. stalking you from inside the house, stealing your panties, humping your pillow, breaking into your room and masturbating. obsessive billy. 69ing. dead dove stuff. don't read if that bothers you

read pt i

read on ao3 here

Billy waits until the house is empty to drop from the attic.

He passes by Claude in the hallway, who gives him a disinterested once over before rolling onto his other side.

“Meow,” Billy says, stopping next to the old cat.

Claude croaks a little hello, and Billy goes on his way.

When he first started staying in the big brown house on Belmont Street, Billy spent his lonely days investigating the sluts’ bedrooms one by one. It was fun to dig around aimlessly, poking through their dirty clothes and their garbage cans, until he would hear a noise and scrambled back up the attic.

In those early days, he did his best to be extra cautious; no matter how badly he wanted to, he never took any panties with him back to the attic and he never messed with their beds. He knew that if they found out he was looking through their rooms, they’d chase him out. He wanted to stay with all of you in the big brown whorehouse.

Your room was the last room he explored, it being the closest to the staircase to the main floor. Standing in front of your door for the first time, he had no way of knowing how much you would change him.

The smell in your room was intoxicating. It was sweet, like pretty flowers in a crystal vase. It soaked into your messy sheets, which he stumbled towards excitedly, and he buried his face against the indent where your body must have been. He breathed in deeply, eyes fluttering shut, then moaned. Was he already getting hard?

Again, he breathed in deeply, moving so that he was laying on the bed. You smelled so good, whoever you were. He wished that he could put a face to this smell. Wished he could imagine whose pussy he’d fuck while you rubbed your pretty scent all over him.

His jeans were tight and pushing his dick down against the mattress made him moan again. Sitting straight, he crawled up the bed and dropped down with his head against your pillows. The smell was even stronger here, and he shoved his face into the soft white cushion as far as it could go.

He was definitely hard now, pressing against the unforgiving denim. He undid his pants and let himself free. Breathing in deeply, he wrapped his hand just around the tip of his cock and squeezed.

“Pretty pig,” he whispered, lips moving against the wet spot already forming on the pillow. He tried to slurp up some of his drool, but his heavy breathing made it pointless. It didn’t matter to him either way.

He fisted his cock a few times, but his hand was dry even with the leaking fluid that gathered at his slit. As he breathed in your pillow, his mind began to wander; he pictured your pretty imaginary head against these pillows every night, rubbing your smell on them. You had pressed your cheek to these pillows, your hair, maybe even your lips. These pillows were like your face, Billy concluded. He wanted to fuck your face.

After that point, he’d made it a habit to visit your room almost every day. It was your fault, really. You shouldn’t smell so good, shouldn’t have such soft pillows, shouldn’t be such a perfect pretty pig slut.

Today, he opens your door, just like he had done yesterday and like he will do tomorrow, and shuts it behind him.

Walking to your bed, he passes by your dresser. He can see right away your bottle of perfume, the one you put on whenever you came from your shower. He knows from experience that it tastes like shit, but it must be something about you that makes the chemically fluid become so delicious. He wants to lick the smell off of you. Wants to suck it out with his mouth.

He’s quick today. He hasn’t eaten much food this past week and he’s eager to dig into the kitchen, but this is more important. If someone came home early, he’d much rather go to sleep hungry than having missed you.

Putting the pillow towards the middle of the bed, he straddles it before pulling his cock out. After a few strokes, he’s hard enough to rub against you. He pictures your face, pretty and blushy. He pictures your glasses too, how they’d get knocked off while he rubbed his cock against your cheek.

It’s so good, and Billy’s mind swims. He’s fucking your face, your mouth, your thighs, your pussy. He’s rubbing his cock on your shoulder and your arm. He’s getting his leaky clear fluid on your hair and on your thigh. His drool makes your tits shiny. The pillow is so soft against the tip of his cock, and he humps it like a dirty dog. Dirty Billy.

But even with how good it is, it isn’t enough anymore. He’s had this fantasy for weeks now, and he needs to cum more than he wants to live. With shaky legs, he stands and wanders the room, searching in the usual spots. He opens your white laundry hamper and sees them immediately. With a little smile at the corners of his lips, he takes your panties and smells them. You must have worn these all day yesterday. He licks at the little strip of cotton where your cunt would have been. His cock twitches.

“Pig cunt,” he mutters sharply, waddling back to the bed. His cock is rock hard and jutting out from his opened pants, and he’s quick to press it against your pillow again. As he rocks his hips, he puts your panties to his mouth and nose and breaths in.

It only takes a few more thrusts against the pillow before he’s coming, and he’s quick to drop the pretty pink panties to his cock to catch his hot white cum. It’s so messy and sticky, and a couple drops still land on your cushion anyways. He needs a minute to catch his breath, and he rolls onto his back, looking up at the ceiling.

He had done the same thing his first time too, mind pleasantly fuzzy after his orgasm. He had stared at the wooden ceiling and thought about how this was your view every night. Maybe one day, you could both lay here and stare at the ceiling together. Back then, he was so lost in his daydream that he almost missed the hole between the floorboards just above the bed. Almost.

His life changed so much the day he met you.

Standing after a few calming moments, he flips the pillow onto its other side and drops it back at the head of your bed. Next, the panties go into your hamper, and then he fixes his pants. His stomach growls angrily and he sighs as he pats it.

Claude follows him to the kitchen.

“It’s for you,” Clare says, holding the phone out to you as you pass by. “He said he’s from your orgo class.”

There’s only one guy who calls you about organic chemistry. You breathe in sharply as you glance at the phone. Not wanting to alarm your friend, you fake a smile and take the handset.

“Thanks,” you say, and watch as Clare walks off. You’re not a child, you tell yourself. You can be brave. You take a calming breath in and out before you hold the phone up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hi,” the Moaner says, laughter making his voice sound so boylike that you wonder how old he is.

“What do you want?” you ask, closing your sweater around you with your free hand. You turn your back to the living room.

He moans obscenely then swallows, the sound so wet and desperate that you wonder what he’s doing to himself.

“You. You pig cunt,” he says, spitting out each word like they’re accusations. He laughs again and you close your eyes.

“What’s your name?” you ask him calmly. He responds with yours instead, and you try not to shake by clenching your sweater even tighter.

“Your name,” you say again, emphasizing the first word. Still, he says yours like he’s proud of it. He laughs, then says it again.

“Cut that out,” you snap at him. “This isn’t fair. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“What’s the change in enthalpy?” he whispers.

“I’m going to hang up if you don’t tell me,” you threaten. He groans, but it doesn’t sound pleasured anymore. It’s as if he’s in pain. Or, your mind supplies unhelpfully, he’s the sort that likes them at the same time. You sigh heavily, both at him and your overactive imagination.

“What’s the change in enthalpy? Pig slut. I’m gonna, gonna stick my tongue up your pig cunt,” he mutters into your ear.

“No, you won’t,” you say dismissively. You regret it immediately as the line goes dead. Even when he wasn’t talking, you could hear him and his mouth, breathing and licking and moaning. Now, it was silent. “Hello?” you say after a long stretch of silence.

“Filthy Billy,” he says finally.

“Is that your name? Billy?” you say, straightening up a bit. He moans then, and you have no doubt that one is from pleasure. “You’re disgusting, Billy.”

“Disgusting Billy,” he mumbles back, panting and moaning and slurping at his lips. Why are you feeling so hot all of a sudden? You clench your thighs and look over your shoulder.

“You talk a lot, Billy. You make a lot of promises,” you whisper into the handset.

“Gon- gonna suck your piggy clit,” he mumbles, so sweet that your stomach flutters with butterflies.

“No, Billy. I don’t think you’re brave enough,” you goad.

“Gonna lick it,” he groans, stretching out each word and letting you hear every syllable. “Piggy cunt. Stick my tongue up your pretty pussy.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, gulping. You’re still trying to stay brave, but you can’t understand the warmth in your belly.

“You want my fat cock, you cunt,” he snaps at you, cutting off the end of your sentence.

“Do you know where I live, Billy?” you ask suddenly. The line goes dead again. You didn’t know you were so good at shutting him up. “If you want me so bad, come and get me.”

You slam the handset down and half expect it to start ringing again. It’s quiet, even after a minute. Feeling satisfied, you nod at the phone and head back to the living room. You sure showed him.

The hallway is black as pitch, and Billy stands in front of your bedroom door. The house is filled with the sounds of sleeping, all except for your room. An orangey light shines through between the door and the floor. He can hear the scratchy sound of a pencil on paper, and the occasional sigh from your lips.

He can’t believe he’s so close to you, and his cock twitches in anticipation. Already, he can smell your flowery crystal scent from here.

He doesn’t knock. Quiet as a mouse, he turns the doorknob slowly and eases the door open. Staring through the newly made crack, he can see that your back is to the door, head hunched down over the textbooks on your desk. Carefully, he steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

Billy knows the creaky floorboards to avoid as he makes his way behind you, and he’s so close that he could touch your hair with the tip of his finger if he held his arm out straight. He waits there for a while before you realize you’re being watched.

“Fuck!” you squeak, jumping in your seat before turning to face your intruder. Books and pens clatter to the floor and a sheet of paper is crumpled in your hand. Your eyes are so wide and beautiful as you stare at him.

You’re shaking. Billy wants to fuck you and cum on your face and your ass and your slit. He wants to lick it, lick it, lick it.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“You- you.” With trembling hands, you let go of the paper and push your hair out of your face. You can’t seem to speak, your lips moving with words you don’t say.

“It’s me, Billy,” he says, shaking too. It’s so hard to hold himself back, and his fingers are so scratchy with his need to touch you. “Agnes.”

“I’m not Agnes,” you respond, staring back at him from your seat.

“I’m here, Agnes,” he says quietly.

“That’s not my name,” you say again. When you stand, Billy takes a half step backwards.

“That’s not my name,” he responds, unconsciously matching your pitch. He lets out a shuddering breath.

Your smell was everywhere, so much stronger with you in the room. It wasn’t just a vase of flowers anymore; your smell was like an overgrown garden, with dirt and honeysuckles and animals.

Your name falls from his lips without his brain’s permission, and he feels kind of like how he was supposed to feel when he went to church as a kid.

“Billy,” you say softly in return, and Billy has to swallow noisily or he might drool past his lips.

“I found you,” he says, and he makes fists against his thighs.

“You did.” Even though your voice was quiet, you didn’t sound scared anymore. Billy glanced down at your body and saw that you were already wearing your night dress, made with white flowy cotton that danced and twirled with every step you took towards your bed; Billy watched helplessly as you sat down on the edge of it.

Billy’s breath was ragged, and he felt like he had been running for miles. Here you were, looking up at him with your pretty eyes and your pretty hair. Pretty pussy, pretty pig cunt that he wants to fill with his hot cum until it oozes out, lazy and slow. He tries to lick his lips, but he can’t stop panting like a dog. He should be used to this; he’s watched you from this exact same spot up in the attic. He’s already cummed on you.

He should have known from his calls with you, it was your attention that made him lose his mind. He’s about ready to scream out loud when you hold out your hand to him.

“Come here,” you whisper. Billy stares at your hand, then at your face. Pretty face. He steps forward like he’s falling.

You lead him to sit beside you, and Billy can feel your heat pressing along his leg where you touch him. He stares down where his rough denim meets your white dress. He doesn’t jump when you put your hand on the side of his face.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Billy,” you say. Billy drags his eyes up to you. You’re so close. He breaths through his nose. You stand, leaving Billy on the bed, and you don’t take your hand off him until he’s out of your reach.

In front of him, you pull your dress up and over your head. Billy blinks. You’re naked.

“Not so talkative now, huh?” you say with a little smile. Billy’s eyes are so wide as he takes you in. He wishes he could take a picture like this. Wishes he could take the picture with him back to the attic so he can cum on it one million times and stroke your face with his thumb. “Take off your sweater, Billy.”

Billy breaths in and out a few times to catch his breath.

“Don’t pussy out now. What happened to dirty Billy?” you taunt.

“Filthy Billy,” he mumbles, and he has to lick his lips. Sitting like this, he’s at eyelevel with your soft stomach, and he wants to pull you close to kiss his way down to your pussy. He wants to part your pussy lips with his tongue and trace it all the way up until it hits your clit. He wants to rip you apart and live inside your tight wet heat.

“Show me how filthy you are,” you whisper, taking a step closer to him. Billy groans, hearing the wet click of your pussy as you moved. Shaking, he lifts his sweater over his head and throws it to the floor. When you sit beside him again, he can feel your soft warm arm against his own.

Billy gulps and stares down at your lap, because if he looks into your eyes, he might wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until your face turns blue. He digs his fingers into his denim-covered thigh.

“It’s okay, Billy,” you murmur and take his hand. “Can I kiss you?”

“You can suck my cock,” he mumbles helplessly. He smacks his lips like he’s dying of thirst and laughs softly. He can’t stomach looking at you.

“You’re such a pervert,” you tell him, like he doesn’t already know. Filthy, disgusting Billy.

“Wanna put my tongue up your piggy cunt,” he says, but he can’t touch you yet. You let out a hot breath, and he can feel it on his shoulder. He shudders and presses his mouth closed.

“Take off your pants,” you whisper. It’s a secret, and a dirty one.

Billy can’t move fast enough. His hands are still shaking as he opens his pants, and he stands for just long enough to pull them down with his underwear. His cock is hard, and it lolls against his thigh when he sits again. He can feel your eyes on his face still.

“Can I kiss you, Billy?”

He nods and keeps nodding even when you cup his face and pull him in for a gentle kiss. He only stops when he feels your tongue on his bottom lip, and his cock drools against his overheated skin. He whines against you and presses his forehead against yours while he takes a shaking inhale.

“Lay down with me,” you say quietly, putting your warm milky creamy hand on his chest.

“Wanna suck-“ Billy swallows thickly, gasping his breaths again. “Wanna suck your clit.”

“Lay on your back,” you say, more insistent as you push him onto his back. Again, his cock bobs with the movement and settles flat on his stomach. Billy lets a broken groan come from his throat as your hand moves lower on his torso. You shush him, and the sounds sends a chill down his spine, like icy spiders.

“You’ll wake my sisters up,” you tell him, lips brushing against his ear.

“I’ll lick their cunts too,” he whispers back. He tries to look at you from the corner of his eye, but it’s like looking at the sun. His head hurts being this close to you, and the smell is like being drunk. When you smile, he looks away.

“What about me?” you ask, and Billy feels your hand on the shaft of his cock. He chokes on his spit and coughs, turning on his side away from you. He laughs because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“S-slut,” he says, slowly going onto his back again.

“You’re mean.” Billy watches you get onto your knees beside him. “You talk so much, Billy.”

He moans when you turn yourself around and swing your leg over him, and all he can see is your pussy – pretty, pink, and so creamy for him. His hands move on instinct and wrap around your thighs, pulling you flush to his face.

There’s no point in wasting time, not when his heart and his cock are competing on which could throb the hardest. The sound of his tongue against your wet slit is terrible and it makes him feel like he’s drowning. He can’t help but moan, letting his tongue trace along your meaty folds before burying deep inside your cunt.

You’re making sounds too, but Billy hardly cares. This was what he had been dreaming about for so long. He wasn’t just dirty pervert Billy who made empty promises. He was Billy who takes. Billy who isn’t afraid to be seen. Billy who can be brave when he wants to be.

Still, he nearly shouts when he feels your lips on the tip of his cock.

“So good, Billy, that’s so good,” you’re whispering, but everything is so loud between your legs. His breaths echo, and everything is so fucking wet. He can feel your slick on his cheeks and on his chin, and every move of his tongue clicks against your needy fuckhole.

His cock feels tight, like it’s going to fall off, but then you wrap your lips around him and swallow him down so far that your nose touches his balls. He tightens his grip on your thighs until you cry out against him, your wet hot mouth vibrating against him.

It’s more perfect than Billy could have imagined, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue as he fucks it in and out of you. He wants more of you, wants you dead so he can take you without having to talk to you, wants you alive to hear your voice. He wants to fuck his cock so far down your throat you suffocate. He wants to make you cum again and again until you’re beginning him to stop.

“Love you,” he tries to say, but it sounds mangled against your cunt. He kisses your pretty piggy pussy lips and feels like maybe he’s turned into a pillow, with the way you ride on his face.

Maybe that’s all he is, maybe he’s so messed up in his brain because he’s a pillow that turned human. Maybe he’s only meant to be your thing to hump against, to sleep on, to get your smell all over before washing it. Billy thinks it would be nice to roll around in a clothes dryer.

Your lips are soft against his hot swollen cock, and he bucks wildly when you wrap a hand around his base and suck at his tip. He grunts into your fleshy cunt, nose bumping against your folds before returning his tongue to its rightful place. But, from the bottom, there’s not much he can do but take – take your mouth on his cock, and take your cunt on his mouth.

He doesn’t last long, but he never does when he can help it. He could have probably come from eating your pussy alone; at least he would have lasted longer. He bucks into your mouth, but your firm grip at his base keeps him from gagging you. He shoots his cum in your mouth instead, and he feels you swallowing around the tip of his cock. Even when he’s finished, you suck like you’re trying to get more out.

“Slut,” he tries to moan, and he sounds wretched. He holds onto your thighs still as you move more frantically on top of him. When you sit up, your press your cunt even harder against his face and he stabs his tongue deeper than before.

Billy makes a depraved noise, a mix between a groan and a choking cough, as you clench down tight around him like you’ll rip his tongue straight out of his mouth. He’d let you, he thinks desperately, he’ll let you take his cock too if you want it. You can sleep on him and hump him and use him however you want.

Your legs shake as you clench down again, and then you collapse forward, pussy lifting off of his face enough to see it quivering and sopping wet. Mindlessly, he picks up his head and leans forward to lick at it some more, broad strokes from your clit up to you blinking hole. He laps at it until you’re quiet, and then laps some more until you lift your hips too far for him to reach.

Rolling off him, he’s suddenly exposed to your chilly bedroom air, and he longs desperately for you to cover him again. If he wasn’t so cum-dumb, he might’ve tried to pull you back on him again. Instead, he watches you from the corner of his vision as you lay down, shoulders touching his.

“Wanna spend the night?” you whisper once you catch your breath. He shakes his head, still panting out loud. He’s not sure if his heart will ever slow down again.

“At least stay for a little while,” you say. You touch his hand gently. He wants to snatch it away on instinct, but a moment passes, and he’s surprised that he likes it. His hand is limp as you wrap yours around it.

“Are you gonna keep calling?” you murmur. It feels like one of those questions that has a right answer, but Billy doesn’t even know where to start. He tells the truth instead, and nods.

“Pretty… pretty cunt,” he says, letting go of your hand to brush along your thigh towards your cunt. He touches your clit with his sticky finger, and you jolt like you were struck by lightning.

“That’s too much,” you whine. Billy lets his hand rest on your lower stomach instead, feeling your scratchy hairs against his palm.

You’re quiet for a while before you say, “If you’re gonna call, I don’t want you to talk to the other girls like that. I don’t want you to sleep with them.”

Billy lets out a shaky breath and drags his hand up your stomach, watching your nipples pebble in anticipation.

“My piggy,” he says.

“Mean,” you respond. He faces the ceiling again, hand falling off you and resting on the messy sheets again.

You lay together, shoulders touching, and knees bent over the edge of the bed. Billy imagines watching himself. How does he look next to you. Probably like nothing. The Billy in the attic wouldn’t even be looking at himself – he knows he wouldn’t take his eyes off of you for even a second.

And he doesn’t, once he finally gets dressed and leaves without another word for his attic; he watches you all night, your smell on his fingers and his face, your flowery perfume on his clothes.

In the morning, he hears your housemate sluts laugh at you and ask who came over last night. You don’t say anything when the loud annoying one asks if it’s your new boyfriend. No, Billy wants to say, he’s something even better than a boyfriend. He’s your pillow, and you’re his pig.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

:D i had a lot of fun writing this !! hope you guys enjoy it

reblogs are greatly appreciated !!!!!

[davidthephoneguy]

A little (mostly Dialtown) rant of my own

Ok first of all you all need to calm down, I'm goin on this rant despite not currently being in the dialtown fandom but I was back around when the game first came out. I just feel like I gotta ask you to be calm because I know how agressive people can be online with that shield on anonymity. I also do not hate dialtown or Dogman nor do I blame them for said issues that will be stated.

Dialtown as a whole does pretty obviously have a problem about representation of fem/fem presenting characters especially in the fandom side. As a previous rant stated before most fem characters are either glossed over in favour of male/masc presenting ones, such as with the main dateables. It even extends to side characters which feels rather disheartening. Now I get why its mainly the male/masc presenting ones who get attention, I must highlight the fact that I am a Bi-Ace Transman and I tended to focus on Oliver and Randal over Karen so I was part of the problem on that part. So i get the gender serotonin of drawing them but I hope you can also see how it means that for example, Karen is almost completely overlooked. I would see myself in them because of the shared gender, I really do understand why this has been happening. You are not evil for doing this, that is not what this rant is about in the slightest. Like the previous rant before stated the game doesn't pass the Bechdal test (Which if you are unaware is a media test which requires two fem characters to talk to eachother about anything other then a man, already an extremely low bar to pass) which Dialtown does not pass. It's completely valid to have reservations about that as it is an overall problem with media at large. Media at large is still a white straight cis male dominated space and needs more diversity in all ways. Dialtown as a whole is a good game and has a diverse cast which is wonderful and amazing to see. The only issue is how some are highlighted more then others or demonized in a way that lines up with misogyny (Such as with Mingus' behavior being villainized by the fandom while Stabby and Shooty doing the same thing being ok and lighthearted in the eyes of the fandom which from an outside view just looks like misogyny I am sorry folks. If the only factor in if you like or dislike a characters actions is because they are a woman is misogyny even if they're cis or trans, misogyny is just the word for discrimination in this way) Pointing this out doesn't mean an attack on anyone, pointing out an issue is meant to bring attention to said issue so it can be improved or fixed. The previous person who I have been referencing and paraphrasing here (who I am not going to @ as they don't need more direct harassment) was slightly attacked for having a rant, yes everyone is entitled to their opinion but that does not give either side the right to actively attack the other. Please remain diplomatic.

People are allowed to highlight issues, if we don't then they won't ever get fixed. We're meant to stick together and fix things together, not attack eachother. Thats what people like terfs want us to do, they want us to tear eachother apart so that they get what they want, our destruction. We have to stand together with the things we love. My apologies for how long this ended up being but I just had to get it out of my head. Just my thoughts as a transman/voidrabbit on the topic

[rederiswrites]

I don't see how trump turning America into a christofacsist state is any different than the norm? like it's been like that for native and black people since it's creation like we inspired the nazis in the first place so like what the point? oh trumps gonna kill everyone who isn't a white cis male! and? that's what america's best quality since day one

Okay I'm actually going to respond to this Edgelord Supreme bullshit, because as absurd as it looks written out like this, I actually do think a lot of people are feeling some half-articulated version of this despair and cynicism. Let's kick that in the ass.

First, let's get one thing straight. History has been terrible awful bad always and forever. There have been a thousand genocides and a million wars and a billion brutal, inhuman war crimes. Back in the days of the earliest civilizations, wiping out entire cities when you defeated them was basically just how things were done for many societies. The fact that we have international laws and international bodies of justice, however obviously toothless they remain, is the result of thousands of years of extremely mixed progress.

So at this point, you pretty much have to say either that a) humans are an incurable blight and don't deserve to live, or b) that we've done amazing, beautiful things and experienced billions of moments of happiness and created art and fallen in love despite all this, so we're still worth working on. Personally, I am very strongly in camp b. I see things worth living for a hundred times a day. There's really no comparison.

Second, the USA is not uniquely bad. It is terribly damaging to people both within its borders and all over the world. It is build on genocide and slavery. Many of its foundational institutions are deeply corrupted by these things. And guess what, that's uh....pretty common. No, really. The US is currently a big fucking problem. It's our turn with the big stick, for sure. But even then, we're not alone.

So how the fuck is this encouraging? It isn't. I'm not encouraging you, I'm telling you to fucking GET GOOD, because when you say shit like the above, what I hear is "Oh I SEE, I'm a TERRIBLE PERSON I guess I should just kill myself to make your life easier." I hear someone who would rather give up and call their country morally bankrupt and irredeemable than to PUT IN SOME FUCKING WORK.

Cynicism is so comfortable. It doesn't ask anything of you. "It's always been like this," it says. "Nothing's going to change."

Except things do change, and things have changed, and your entire premise is in fact absolute dogshit. The two presidential candidates are not remotely the same, and we are not, yet, a Christofascist nation. I could, as many before me already have, enumerate the million concrete ways in which your premise is just not true, but honestly I won't bother, because it's not a premise in good faith. What I mean by that is that even a cursory examination of the actual facts would totally trash your expressed beliefs, so you're not really interested in the facts.

Change for the better can happen. Change for the better has happened. It's just not as EASY as you want it to be. There are more steps. For example, you can't have viable independent candidates until you have campaign finance and voting reform. So you have to push for those things. For years, probably decades. Many people have died without seeing the realization of things they fought for, and yet those things have come to pass. You may die fighting the good fight and not see the victory. I may too. Meanwhile, you make the choices that will hopefully get the fewest people killed.

So stop acting like we're all just too shitty to bother about, and put in some fucking work.

[frostytherobot]

Mike explicitly says in the video description that the problem is “identity politics” which is right wing conservatism speak for we don’t like diversity in our programming.

It’s not a political statement to want to see diversity in programming unless you think normal is white straight people, and they should always be the protagonist and never the antagonist in storytelling.

?

If you watch the video he and Rich also say they have no problem with characters being diverse and cite several examples of shows with diverse casts that they enjoy. They don’t have a problem with people being not white, not straight, or not cis, there’s just no substance to the things people are being told is great or horrible just because it’s diverse. I think they’re just using “identity politics” as a phrase to sum up what’s going on in the discussion, and while it’s not the greatest way to describe it, I’m giving them a pass.

I really, truly think they’re just frustrated with the fact that Hollywood writers have no idea what the fuck they’re actually talking about and have no substance in their scripts besides some surface level character traits that don’t serve the narrative at all or some obvious references to real world politics that don’t say much besides “this is bad” or “this is good.” There’s also this idolization of franchises as sorta pseudo-religions that gets under my skin and I’m sure they’re feeling the same way, seeing as they keep saying “if it’s not something you’re enjoying, you can turn it off.”

I’m not ready to vilify them for being old and slightly inarticulate just yet.

[decolonize-the-everything]

to the purpose of the misandry post, I've seen plenty cis str8 white abled men suffer under patriarchy, it's a purposefully isolating and cannibalistic system, without a minority to target the yoke of victimhood will be passed to whoever the group finds to be the most lacking in "masculinity". Any system so hostile to the people who created it can only be doubly awful at least to the people it means to oppress. And we see time and time again white men who're at the bottom rung of the ladder turn and enact terrible violence on the groups they believe to be more deserving of the treatment they received

TW/CW: SA, genocide

What does that add to the conversation though? Or could you rephrase if I'm misreading?

Like isn't that just how privilege preserves itself? Using anything but ultimately violence to maintain its stand within the status quo? Doesn't every privileged person do that? How is that unique to men?

Aren't most women in America right now advocating for either Kamala or Trump to save their own skin from Project 2025 while Black and brown women and children overseas suffer the worst things possible during genocide? While marginalized people even in the USA ask them to support someone more progress and they refuse for the same reason?

Is it different because women are just voting for it to continue and not doing the dirty work of killing pregnant women or SA-ing them directly themselves?

No, tell me.

How is that different from when BBQ Becky "just" calls the police on Black people while the cops do her actual dirty work?

The more I talk about this and read what Julia Serano said about needing more language because there is a need for it as transmisogyny isn't enough and about intersectionality from Black feminists (Mikki Kendall, Kimberlé Crenshaw, Audre Lorde, Layla Saad) and read critiques from those same people about mainstream/white feminism...the more I think we need a more a unified structure to fight a more unified enemy.

The issue I'm having with needing language to describe my experiences as a semi-genderfluid nonbinary/two spirit bi/pansexual trans person is the narrow lens through which gender oppression is currently understood.

My oppressor isn't just the government. It's not not just men. Nor is it just women. Nor is just cis people or straight people or or abled people or settlers or- It is...all of it. Except Black people ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

That's why I talk about it all on my blog. It's why I why I want these systems and even this country structurally decolonized.

My gender is tied to all of these structures which compound on each other. I'm not treated badly just for looking like a badly performing woman, im systematically oppressed for being a badly performing brown woman in a queer relationship and being someone who is not pretty by eurocentric beauty standards, disabled being a lazy leech, and toxic mentally ill with symptoms

I wish I could have such a simple understanding as you anon, but I've not got the privilege for it.

I guess the TLDR is this:

"Men = bad," does not work for me. Women were there cheering on lynchings and colonization for centuries, too.

"White supremacy and it's infrastructure= bad," Does work for me and it places responsibility back on individuals who interact with me rather than conceptual groups of oppressors they can shift blame to instead in order to avoid accountability/responsibility for their role in my oppression.

[genderkoolaid]

some trans men feel that their gender isn't any different than a cis man's gender. some trans men who have completed their transition don't identify with being trans because it no longer has much relevance to their daily lives.

none of that means that the vast majority trans men do not have undeniably different material experiences than cis men. trans men are undeniably seen and treated differently than cis men. i don't know the statistics but i imagine the average trans man is not actually a white gender conforming totally passing straight guy. when trans men point out that we are, in fact, different than cis men, its because treating us like cis men means ignoring our unique struggles & erasing our transmasculinity.

because it is erasure. its the same old transmasc erasure but formatted for pro-trans spaces. assuming that you can generalize cis men's experiences under the patriarchy to trans men is just another way of avoiding having to take transmasculinity seriously and give it a voice.